


Rent Asunder

by neverending_shenanigans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Not Beta Read, alternative universe - dragon riders of thedas, and all the other characters appearing in the first twenty minutes of the game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:45:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: What if: Dragons of Thedas were more like the dragons of pern - or if they used to be. What if the herald of andraste happens to come out of the fade not alone - but with the first gold queen to be seen in thedas in several centuries? What if rumors formed that this dragon was andraste's queen from the in-between?An out-of-order series of One Shot telling the tale of Inquisitor Mir'assan Lavellan and her queen Somniath, and the rebirth of Skyhold Weyr.





	1. All my fragile strength

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amusewithaview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/gifts).



> Formerly posed in exactly this form on tumblr. So this is not a deja-vu, if you feel like you've seen this before. I'm just finally moving my things from there to here.
> 
> This is for @amusewithaview. You know what you did, you know why I did this.
> 
> For everyone else - this is what talking with amuse about your favourite game and a great book series you read over eight years ago does to you.
> 
> Have an attempt at a beginning of a Dragon Age: Inquisition/Dragonriders of Pern-Crossover. No knowledge of the later is needed, and i’d almost agrue that no knowledge of the former is needed either, as it’s the very friggin’ beginning with lots of quotes from the first thirty minutes of the game. Which i promise is not a thing i would repreat for follow up chapters of this thing.
> 
> So, uhh, yeah. Spoilers for those who have not played the game.

**1.1**

Fire cracked around her when Mir'assan came to consciousness. It cracked, loudly and angry, from the fire place, with a hiss.  _Elgara must be training her control of fire magic again_ , she thought for a moment. The second to the Keeper hat so much she had yet to learn. She would have gone back to sleep, if the next flame wouldn’t have seemingly shot up her arm and through her hand.

The pain finally woke her, and a curse towards the other mage was on her lips already… and yet darkness seemed to engulf her mind for just a moment longer. She blinked, rapidly, before she understood that the darkness was real, and the cracking not from fire, and that she was not at her Clan’s campsite in the woods.

She was staring at her palm, where she thought there had been fire, when something green and angry cracked over it – magic. Magic? But – not hers? What had they done to her?

There was not even time enough to be appropriately confused, when a door was slammed open.

She raised her gaze, only now comprehending that there were four shems in the room, pointing their swords at her – and two more just entered. It was so dark, she could barely make out their forms. But she did see the big sword one of them carried. Her right hand moved to reach for her staff instinctual, but she only noticed now that her hands were bound together at the wrists.

One of the women circled her, and then she spoke, voice heavy with an accent that Mira couldn’t place. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

Conclave. Yes. There was something. She remembered. She had dressed like one of the mercenaries, hiding her face beneath cowl and shawl. For days, she had been with them, and had begun to even feel comfortable around them, assuming the identity of a former dalish who recently joined a band of mercs – mostly other dalish, hunters and warriors from other clans.

People had been very helpful to her “group”, telling them of the root of this conflict from their many different perspectives. A sort of code of honor among mercs had given them an in. She had even begun to understand why the keeper send her, of all people. There had been countless disguised mages – apostates, as the humans called them – among the mercenaries. Mages had a special stake in this conclave, all waiting for decisions to be made that would ultimately decide their fate.

A decision that could shake the world, the keeper had called it. Important enough that the clans of the free marches had decided that some of them should come to watch. But then… then… the conclave is destroyed? But  _how_? Why couldn’t she remember?

_Calm yourself. You are safe. It is not your fault. Talk to them. They are just as afraid as you are._

She looked around, at the fearful faces of the guards. She understood. They were indeed afraid of her. It was an expression she was honestly used to. “You think  _I_  am responsible.”

The woman grabbed her left arm by the sleeve, pulling it up. “Explain  _this_.”

And the green fire cracked up in her hand, as if on command. It… it cackled, and there was a faint stinging, slight pain, but it didn’t burn. It wasn’t fire. But it was definitely magic. The woman let go again, as if burned by whatever it was. So… so it was not their doing? No human magic to threaten her?

“I…” Mira’s voice cracked. “I  _can’t_.” So this was how she would die. In a shem’s prison, caught in their fight. Blamed for something she hadn’t done, like so many of her people had been already. Fear welled up inside her.

_Calm yourself, child. You are safe. I will not let them do you harm._

That… that voice. Mira looked up, instinctively, almost expecting someone to stand over her. And instead looked in the angry face of that woman again.

“What do you _mean_ you  _can’t_.” The woman seemed angry, disbelieving. The other one shrunk deeper into the shadow.

_Tell them the truth. They will not hurt you._

“I don’t know what that is…. Or how it got there.”

“You’re lying!”

As the woman grabbed her by the collar, a roar was heard outside. A bestial roar, a sound that Mira couldn’t place. Definitely not a bear though. The other woman, who had not spoken so far, whirled around and pulled the short haired one off Mira. “We need her, Cassandra.”

“What was that?” The dark haired woman looked at the one in the shawl. “Was that…  _it_?” She gestured towards the door.

“Focus,” was the only thing the other said. “Not now.”

Mira sunk down, trying to remember anything that the woman might need of her, something to get her out of this situation. The conclave was destroyed? But how? She remembered mages and templars marching into the temple, troupes all around to keep the peace. Mercenaries making bets on who would win. Women in white gowns singing songs of peace… all gone?

“All those people… dead.”

But there was something else. Images flashed in her mind, a different place. A mountain top. Light. A roar. There was fog, and palpable fear in her gut as she tried to remember.

It was the woman with the shawl that spoke to Mira now. “Do you remember what happened? How all this began?”

“I remember … running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman? And… something else. With horns?” It didn’t make sense. Had there been Tal-Vashoth mercenaries?

“A woman?”

“She… reached out to me. And then there was… light. And a song. Humming. But then… fear… And….” Images flashed through her mind, of a light. It was pale, green, and then… bright, and gold, with bands of red and green. And there was a humming, that shook her insides. A humming that she couldn’t really hear, but  _feel_. A humming that conveyed … pride. Safety. Protection.

Whatever it was that she said, something shifted in the room. Unspoken words, and then the shoulders of the short haired woman seemed to sag, as if in defeat. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” The woman with the shawl nodded and left, and the other one turned back to Mira, knelt down to free her of where she was bound to the ground.

“What  _did_  happen?”

“It… will be easier to show you.” The short haired woman – Cassandra? – pulled her on her feet. Mira followed with tied hands, and the brightness outside overwhelmed her for a moment. But when her eyes could focus again, there were transfixed by the most curious sight.

A green, glowing hole in the sky. It… it looked almost like an eye. An angry eye of magic.

“We call it the breach,” that Cassandra woman said, in a somber tone of voice. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons and it grows larger with each passing hour.” Her back was to Mira, and for a moment Mira was tempted to try and make a run for it. But she couldn’t really tear her own gaze from the sky. The humming inside of her seemed to grow larger, once more fighting down the fear in her throat.

“It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.” And with that, Cassandra turned around again.

“An explosion.” There was a tickling in the back of her mind at the word, as if there was something there, but it vanished. “An explosion can do that?” Was the human magic truly this much more powerful than the Dalish one?

“This one did.” The angry woman came back to Mira. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.

The sky cracked, green, energy ebbing from it, and as if in reply Mira’s hand seemed to burn, crack and fizzle as well, and she instinctively held it up, before the tremor shook her and brought her to her knees. She could barely close a fist around it.

Again, a roar was to be heard, and the woman looked around, as if in panic. It seemed closer now. Then she strode over to where Mira was on the ground. “Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“You say it may be the key. To what?”

“Closing the breach. Whether that is possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.” The last words were clearly meant as threat, but with that thing in the sky, it seemed almost laughable.

“You still think I did this. To  _myself_.”

“Not intentionally. Something… clearly went wrong.” So the woman was not entirely without reason. Her keeper’s voice rang in her ears, reminding her time and time again that a peaceful coexistence was the only path forward for her kind.

“And if I am not responsible?”

“Someone is. And you are only suspect. You wish to prove you’re innocent? This is the only way.”

Mira looked over the other woman’s shoulder back at the sky. “I understand.“ How could she not. Whatever that thing in the sky was, it wouldn’t go away by ignoring it. Someone had to take care of it. And wasn’t that her position? She was First to the Keeper, after all.

“Then…” There was a faint trace of hope in that Cassandra’s voice.

Mira nodded. “I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.”

Again, Cassandra pulled her up. And then there was something on her face, her gaze shifted back to the trees. Her steps faltered. “… Do you remember anything? Anything at all of the conclave? Or… a Dragon?”

Mira blinked. “A… what?”

A huff of reluctance escaped the other woman’s throat, as she started walking. “I will explain on the way.”

* * *

 

**1.2**

They made their way through a camp under watchful, angry gazes. Mira noticed the people around her with heightened awareness. She also noticed how many of the people made grabs for weapons as she passed. She listened as Cassandra explained the situation as briefly as she could, giving orders along the way, and freeing her hands just as they left the encampment.

The dead Divine, and her the only survivor. Their need to work together now, and how important it was to close this angry eye in the sky. The theory that she could close the thing in the sky with the thing in her hand, but that they needed to test it first.

And then she talked of the figure of a woman where she emerged – and paused, just outside the gates. She was clearly conflicted, but then she turned and continued with brisk steps and raised chin next to Mira. “There is… one more thing.”

“ _More_?” Mira wasn’t sure she could comprehend or bear any more news. This already seemed beyond comprehension. The lack of her memory frightened her more than it should.

“When you came out of the breach, there wasn’t just the glowing figure of the woman. You were … carried.”

“Carried? By whom?”

“By  _what_ , is the better question. There are people that swear that you were carried by a golden Dragon.”

Mira froze in her steps, and Cassandra paused when she noticed. “A golden dragon? But… but Queens are extinct. They vanished centuries ago.”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes. They vanished with our Lady of Sorrows, and the rest left the weyrs and turned on humanity. And some claim that _this _dragon that carried you was Andraste’s Queen Somniath, and that Andraste was the woman behind you, sending you with her loyal companion to save our world.”

“Me? A  _Dalish_? But didn’t you just say that people think I am the one who opened that hole in the sky in the first place?”

Impatiently, Cassandra gestured on. “Come, we have to hurry,” she continued in her large strides and Mira tried to keep up. “People are not sure what to believe, and I cannot blame them. We will have to wait and see, I suppose. But those who guarded the ruins of the Temple still swear to it. And there are others now who claim to have seen a dragon nearby. And … you heard its cries as well. People just want to hope.”

Mira couldn’t think of a suitable reply to this. Hope, yes. She understood that. She wanted to hope, too. To hope for all of this to be over quickly. But those people back in the encampment had reminded her more of a crowd ready to carry the pitchforks to the knife-ears than a crowd looking at someone they thought sent by their god.

But that image of the light, and the shadowed horns in her mind stuck. She was almost too distracted to listen to Cassandra, and barely noticed when the Bridge they were crossing collapsed beneath their feet. Even as they fought frigging _demons_ , a part of her mind was occupied to whisper _dragons_ back at her.

They continued on, and Mira couldn’t help but look up every other step. Up at the breach, but also scanning the sky – as if a dragon would be appearing there any moment now. The fighting happened instinctually, and it almost calmed her nerves just to have staff back in her hand. It was not her staff, but it helped to just… hit things. With magic. To have gained a modicum of control.

* * *

 

**1.3**

They were four now. One more elf named Solas, and a dwarf named Varric with a crossbow that also had a name.  They were… friendly.  More friendly than the humans, at least. But Mira could barely focus on them, and instead kept rubbing her left hand.

She could barely comprehend that they were on their way to close that tear in the sky, let alone that her _hand _was what should apparently be able to do this. It seemed bizarre.

The elf was the one who had apparently come up with the wild idea that the thing in her hand could be a key, and he had been right with the small rifts they had encountered yet. Though a part of her had _not _been entirely pleased that his method of testing his theory was to simply stick her hand in there.

She was also not pleased that she couldn’t say at all how it had worked. But when he had pulled her arm towards that glowing green jewel-thing in the sky the thing in her hand had responded. It had seemed as if it was humming back at the sky in the same rhythm, and there had been a pull. The thing had drawn from within her, from her magic, but it had also seemed to tug at the crystal, pulling it close like a thread around a rip in a cloth. And then with a wave of magic, it had just closed.

And now it was lying mostly dormant in her hand, with a faint, cackling pulse of energy. That seemed to flare up faintly whenever the eye in the sky pulsed stronger.

She wished she could show this to Keeper Deshanna. Her knowledge of the arcane was not yet large enough to be able to identify anything about this. But her keeper had studied with so many different clans, she would know what to do with this. And if not, he would know of someone to help. In her clan, she would have so many people ready to help with their own skill and expertise. Hunter Jareth would crack a joke about her talent at finding herself in impossible situations, but he would also have her back. Storyteller Haran would offer old tales of other Dalish lost in strange circumstances and Elgara would tease her absolutely unbeatable need to help people, but still encourage it wholeheartedly. She felt naked without them here now.

Though this Solas also seemed to know a thing or two. He was not Dalish, and also not trained by them, as he had been very quick to point out. She had almost been offended by how strongly he needed to make that point. But be that as it may, he had recognized the thing in her hand somehow. It seemed like she was not entirely on her own with it at least.

Though she could do without the company of some of the people she had met. Back in the forward camp, this Chancellor Roderick had looked at her in a way that had made her reconsider not just making a run for it. She couldn’t deny that her choosing the path through the mountains, when asked, was about possibly rescuing the scouts as much as pissing of that man.  Had had thought it a supremely bad idea, after all.

“So,” Someone spoke up next to her, and she flinched, to her embarrassment. It was the dwarf. Cassandra and Solas were just slightly ahead of them, as Cassandra knew the way. But they were still within earshot, and Mira could hear Cassandra informing Solas of the dragon cries they kept hearing. It seemed likely that the dragon – whatever kind of dragon it was – was nearby.

“I think during the introductions earlier we skipped you, didn’t we. I mean, I could technically continue calling you ‘prisoner’, like our beloved Seeker does. But unlike her, I was raised with manners,” Varric winked at her.

“My apologies,” Mira blinked. She was not sure if that was a jab at the human woman or at her. “I am Mir’assan, First to Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan. “

“Mir’assan of Clan Lavellan. Where’s your Clan from? Your trade doesn’t sound quite Fereldan to me.”

Mira smiled, a little. “We travelled mostly in the northern Free Marches.  And you can call me Mira, if you wish. I know our names are a bit alien to most tongues.”

“Free Marches? Did you ever meet up with the… what’s it called. Dammit, Daisy taught me. Sabrae Clan? I think?”

“I did not, but I know of them. They came to the Free Marches a couple of years ago, from Ferelden. Some of their Clan joined mine after the incident in Kirkwall. I had left for the conclave already, though. How did you meet them? They are not… a very…  _open_  Clan. They had some troubling experiences, I gather.”

“Yep, you can say that. I guess it’s a friend of a friend thing. I know their former First to the Keeper. She taught me a bit about how Dalish Clan’s work for a book of mine.”

“I see.” As much as she tried to remember it, Mira couldn’t remember if she had ever heard of Keeper Marethari’s first. From what she knew of Elgara’s letter, mostly hunters had joined them, and some of the Clan’s elderly.

She would have to remember to ask about it in her next letter. That is, if she survived this day. And maybe, if she was lucky, she would get to return home and ask them herself then.

“Hey, you two. Don’t slack off. We are almost there,” Cassandra called out suddenly, point up at some ladders just a little further up. Mira nodded, and gave the woman a thumbs up to show her that she heard her and Varric chuckled.

“Well, we’ll continue this later. I’m sure we still have a lot of running left to do here.”

* * *

 

**1.4**

This. This was huge. This was a  _huge_  mistake. That’s what this felt like. A really bad idea. Sticking her hand in two of the smaller rifts might have worked, but this? Standing here, in the ruins of this temple, it felt like an unbelievably stupid idea.

But looking up at the thing in the sky, she was also quite sure that not trying and just leaving it be would be even worse. There were giant boulders just… floating, and the gravity field of this rift seemed to expand with every moment passed.

“You’re here! Thank the maker,” someone called out behind them. Mira looked over her shoulder briefly, as the woman with the shawl – what was her name again? – came running, now with a giant bow on her back. Still, she turned her gaze back to the rift. She wondered if that pull and the tugging feeling she felt earlier would rip her arm of if she tried it here.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Mira heard Cassandra order. Then the black haired woman stepped in front of her, demon blood from their battles on the way here still on her armor, but obviously unfazed. A grizzly sight.

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

As if anyone could be ready for this. Staring up at the sky, she was sure that this thing would devour her. No way could this work. “I’m assuming you have a plan to get me up there?”

“No,” Solas spoke up, possibly sensing the fear rising in her at the mere thought. His voice was calm, as if he was trying to sooth her. “This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the breach.”

“Then let’s find a way down,” Cassandra said, already turning. “And be careful.”

“Sure,” Mira muttered under her breath. “Careful seems like a good idea. I will _carefully _stick my hand in the angry hole.” Varric snorted. She might not have muttered as quietly as she thought. Mira tightened the grip around her staff, and started off. Best get it over with. She had to give it her all and at least try to fix this. She almost stumbled, though, when something echoed through the ruin.

**‘Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.’**

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra said behind her, still following on her heels.

“At a guess? The person who created the breach,” Solas replied, sounding almost fascinated. Mira looked over her shoulder, and saw the awe on Cassandra’s face. She turned her head back as Solas gaze met hers. She was quite sure that what was on her face was not awe. It was fear. Again.

She focused on running, trying to ignore the other three behind her, as they discussed the red things protruding the stone around them. There was something else her. She couldn’t explain, but there was the humming in her chest again.

**‘Hold the sacrifice still.’**

Her heart was hamming in her throat. Something about this seemed familiar, and yet when she tried to place this voice, there was nothing. Her mind was blank. By the gods, please don’t let this dragon that had maybe saved her be one of the kind that talked to people. Please don’t let it be this dragon’s voice that they were hearing here.

**‘Someone, help me!’**

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice,” Cassandra said, and for the first time since Mira had met the woman an hour or so ago, she seemed less steadfast. There was so much pain that Mira paused, shortly, looking back at her a little unsure.

But Cassandra didn’t. She pressed on, and downright jumped over the ledge towards the ground, where the rift was hovering. Mira felt she had no choice but to follow – and as she landed, it was her own voice that echoed through the place. The mark on her hand started coming to live again, its energy twirling up her lower arm, and… it looked as if the rift in the sky was reacting to it. It seemed as if the green light emitted from her hand was drawing forth more of that greenish fog.

**‘What’s going on?’**

“That’s your voice,” Cassandra noted, almost sounding surprised. “Most Holy called out to you, but,…”

Before Cassandra could finish that thought, some of the energy around the rift seemed to stretch, and twirl into smoke like shadows in the air. The source of those voices, forming… faces. Bodies. Or something like it. It was hard to make out, almost dreamlike.

 **‘What’s going on here?’** A shadow that looked more and more like her own face seemed to say. She could see the mercenary garb she had hidden in, the shawl from her head pulled down, confusion on the images facial expression.

Another of those shadows became more concrete, a woman now, in chantry garb. **“Run while you can! Warn them!”** The utter fear, and desperation in her voice made Mira shudder. It made her want to run right now.

But the third shadow remained ungraspable, black, large, with glowing red eyes.  **“We have an intruder. Kill her, now!”**  With the last words, it seemed to raise an arm towards the image of herself.

And then, before anything could happen, a glistening light emitted from the rift and it seemed to suck in the images again.

“Spirits,” she heard Solas mutter behind her, sounding so pleased. He walked towards the rift, and Mira wondered how he could be so fearless.

Cassandra was less so. “You _were _there,” she said, almost accusing, as Mira turned around. “Who attacked…? And the Divine, is she…? Was this Vision true? What are we seeing?” She stepped closer to Mira with every question, her face a mask of fury.

Mira held up both hands, stumbled back a few steps. “I _still _don’t remember.”

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place,” He said, looking up at the rift with an expression nothing short of admiration. At least this seemed to distract Cassandra from Mira, as she whirled around and strode over to him. That woman sure was intense.

“Shit,” Varric muttered, standing next to Mira. She glanced towards him, as he looked up and shrugged. She nodded, weakly.

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily,” Solas continued. “I believe that with the mark the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely.”

“Safe for whom,” Varric again muttered under his breath.

“However,” Solas spoke on with a slight frown on his face. “Opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Cassandra nodded once, replying in a louder voice, clearly meant for all the scouts and soldiers that Leliana had positioned around them. “That means demons. Stand ready!”

Then, she turned to Mira, expectantly. Mira looked around, once. The crack in her hand was almost vibrating, as if with anticipation. And that voiceless humming in her chest was growing stronger, too. She nodded back, gripping her staff, twirling it once, and heard Cassandra draw her blade. Varric, at her side, settled his crossbow, placing a bolt.

And then she raised her arm, feeling the tugging, stronger than before – and could almost see it unraveling the rift, as something pushed through. A giant monster seemed to leap out, something Mira had never seen before.

“Now,” Cassanda screamed, raising her blade.

But just as the beast was getting up, another roar could be heard, that seemed to shake the ground. The giant demon whipped around, as did everyone else. And there she was.

A golden dragon, circling above them, but clearly aiming for the ground. Again, it roared, but to Mira it felt different than before. It felt… warm. Known.

The demon answered with a roar of its own.

She noticed out of the corners of her eyes that the others fell back, but she was too transfixed by the sight. She likely would have remained were she was if it weren’t for Cassandra and Solas suddenly grabbing her arms and dragging her back towards the wall with them. But her eyes stayed on the dragon, and … it felt like the dragon was watching her too?

Flames shot out of the dragon queens mouth at the beast, and it roared in pain, aiming for the dragon’s throat with a whip of purple energy. The dragon did not even try to evade it, and the whip shattered as it hit the golden scales. Instead, she made a grab for the demon with her feet, lifting it up the ground. With two beats of her wings she gained height, the demon screaming out as the claws of the dragon dug deeper into its shoulders, and then the dragon turned its body in flight and slammed the dragon into one of the walls of stone. The demon let out a howl that pieced everyone’s ears, as it was pierced by a spike of stone through its mid section, and Mira saw the people around her stumble – and then the demon seemed to fall into little, glowing green pieces that the rift sucked up.

And the dragon queen threw her head back, and roared, once more, before she lowered herself to the ground fully. She craned her neck, and looked over her shoulder towards them. She huffed, and her green eyes glistened in the light of the breach.

Mira stepped forward, she could barely tear her gaze away, but she knew instinctively what the dragon wanted. She raised her marked, left hand, and started pulling again. This time it was harder, and for a moment she was convinced that it would really and actually rip out her arm. When she started screaming out from the pain of her own magical energy burning out through her arm, the dragon roared again. But then she felt something in the rift give in, and the tug ended appruptly. Mira knew that it had worked – the thing was sealed.

She stumbled, and noticed out of the corner of her eyes that the dragon queen was turning in the tight space, making one step towards her.

No one else moved as Mira looked at the dragon again, and couldn’t help but smile. She raised her right, unmarked hand towards the regal beast, and the dragon queen lowered her head towards her, pushing her giant snout into the open palm.

The humming in her chest seemed like a vibration now, which echoed from her chest through her arm into the dragon, and back into her. The dragon queen closed its eyes.

And now the humming Mira had only felt early was audible to all of them.

The dragon queen was  _singing_.

And then Mira felt her feet give in, and Darkness take her.

 

 

* * *

 

**Bonus:**

**2 Hours Earlier**

_“Cousin Cassandra,_

_I must say, I was quite surprised to receive your letter, after five years without a word from you. And then such an urgent one. But I am glad to hear you alive and well.”_

“Alive and well and far away from Nevarra. That’d have been more honest.”

_“ _Oh, hush you. At least she replied._  Did news of your little climb in the line of succession reach you? Cousin Henrik’s demise is a tale for the ages.”_

“Urgh.”

_“He and Cousin Jorah died in a ridiculous battle of wits. Something with poisoned wine that both of them ended up drinking. You should have seen Cousin Corale’s face. She-…”_

“Leliana. I know you have read it already. Skip Cordelia’s unnecessary blabbing and get to the point.”

“Spoil sport. Fine. Let me…. Ah, yes, here it is. Third page.”

“Urrrrrgh.”

“ _As for your question’s on that book our late Granduncle wrote, I have hand copied the relevant passages for you. I am pleased to hear that you are not ashamed of our ancestral tales of dragonbreeding and dragonriding, from before our days of dragonslaying. I know that the Chantry has hardened its stance on dragons, and I assumed that with your close ties to the church you’d feel similar. Most of our family would have us remembered now only as dragonslayers, but I say we should be proud of our history. It is Andraste’s mercy that made Nevarra the first Weyr, even if some would like to forget that blessing.”_

“I must say, I am in accord with your Cousin here. Your family rose to the crown because of their many skills, and it is quite sad to see them purge so many fascinating tales.”

“I will lend you my copy of Granduncle’s Wolfgang’s book, then, Josephine. You will find it less fascinating than blatantly ridiculous. It is no wonder it was denounced as a tale of bedtime stories, rather than historical records.”

“Oh, I don’t know. My sources actually verified half of that book. Reality can sometimes be stranger than fiction. Just look at our current situation. A hole in the sky is something I would expect to find in a tale, too, if someone wrote about it in eight hundred years.”

“If we live that long. Can we get back to the part that is relevant for now?”

“Of course, Commander. So…. Ah, yes. _And you do remember correctly that our Granduncle is one of the few who referenced that little Dalish tale of Andraste’s Golden Queen. The chantry has always been deliciously vage about the early days of Andraste’s dragonriding, and of Shartan and his bronze. But the Dalish have no such qualms, and the detailed description of the Queen’s character and appearance and the scorch marks left on her is astonishing._

_You will not find any such close description of the physical appearance of Somniath in any chantry legend, be that the marking on her golden scales or her presumably blue glowing eyes. Quite unusual, even for a dragon. So I am happy to oblige you and I have enclosed our Granduncle’s personal translation of it for you. The whole, unabbriged thing. It is quite the fascinating read, though for the life of me I cannot think of what in it might be of urgency to you._

_And be warned, cousin. You were but a babe when he died, so you won’t remember it, but our dear Granduncle had lived with the Dalish for a time and even taken one of their mages for a paramour. His fondness for them might have clouded his judgment quite a bit on where the Dalish embellished the story a little themselves. So, read with caution, dear Cassandra._

_And do write me again and tell me what you thought on it. It has been so long since one of our family visited the archives or-….”_

“This should be enough.”

“Indeed.”

“So, if we believe those who guarded the temple…”

“And that is a big if.”

“Thank you, Cullen. Yes.”

“Well. Several reports align that the Breach broke open and a Golden Queen with flaring blue eyes and dark red marks rose from it. With that woman. There are too many people who saw that dragon to dismiss it as a false claim.”

“Maybe.”

“And the church never noted those eyes in official records. The only ones who have them are your seekers and now that tale from your Granduncle. Why would people describe something they have never heard of?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! But are we to believe it then? That Andraste’s Queen emerged from the sky? From the  _Fade_?”

“We don’t have to believe anything for now. I say you go back to questioning our prisoner, and see what she knows. We should focus on the breach first. Maybe there is an explanation for it after all. I have seen mages do stranger things than conjuring the image of a dragon.”

“Says the templar.”

“And what would  _Sister_  Nightingale say?”

“I say we look at what there is. And there is a hole in the sky, and there is the first golden dragon in hundreds of years. We can’t deny that she has been spotted circling around here.”

“People see what they want to see. Where is this Queen now? Why did the dragon leave her?”

“I can’t know. Maybe that woman was on her back, maybe not. But I don’t think we should dismiss the possibility of divine intervention out of hand.”

“I would certainly not complain if the Maker were to have dropped the woman responsible for that hole in the sky in our lap. If she is to blame for this, maybe she knows how to undo it.”

“Awfully optimistic of you, Josie.”

“The chantry would denounce all of us for even considering that the maker would use a dragon – let alone Andraste’s Queen to intervene, after the dragons turned away from the maker’s children.”

“Now you sound like Chancellor Roderick.”

“Speaking of, did he-“

“Erhm, Commander?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“The prisoner is coming to consciousness.”

“Good. Thank you. Cassandra?”

“On my way.”


	2. Sky full of song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Hatching had taken place in Skyhold Weyr, and this is the aftermath. 
> 
> (Set a good deal after the first chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muse requested fluff, so she shall have it. For those of you who actually subscribed to this, my thanks. Also, a warning, re: updated description. I have decided to turn this into a collection of scenes taking place in the AU. There is a narrative, but I don't have the time to turn this into an orderly story. So instead of not writing it at all, there will be one-shots. I will do my best to give you a hint of order in the chapter description.

 

> _Grab me by my ankles, I've been flying for too long_   
>  _I couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song_   
>  _And I want you so badly but you could be anyone_   
>  _I couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song_

  

The air was filled with the soft song that Somniath had been humming for the past few days. It was a slow and light, but it kept Mira awake, and so she found herself wandering the battlements of Skyhold at sunrise. Frederick had assured her that it was normal after a hatching; apparently a queen’s song had a calming effect on her offspring and their riders. But given that Somniath had impressed on her, the song was a multitude louder in her own mind.

Still, she supposed it would be ungrateful to begrudge her queen this. She would be able to put up with less sleep for a week or two. After this, things should settle down a bit again, after the hatchlings and their new handlers had bonded more closely. Or so Frederick speculated. Again, it had been centuries since the days of the last weyrs. And the dragonriders of old had not exactly written manuals for them to study. The best they had was what Cassandra’s cousin had sent them from the Penthaghast’s personal archives.

It was lucky for them – or fate, as Mira had heard it whispered around the courtyard – that the Inquisition had been founded by a member of the legendary family of the first weyr. Otherwise they’d be completely winging this whole thing.

Not that they weren’t mostly making things up on the fly anyway. There still was the matter of that one riderless dragon that kept circling Skyhold. There was the matter of her Queen’s occasionally glowing eyes, too. The fact that Dragons could, apparently, enter the Fade. And the question of which dragon had most likely risen to Somniath’ mating flight – a thing that had happened completely out of the blue, too. And the Queen still refused to speak of it to Mira.

Speaking of which, Mira was surprised when she spied Dorian leaning against one of the tumbled towers, staring off into the distance. When she approached, he looked up at her, and the formerly troubled expression melted into a smile. “Ah, good morning to you, Inquisitor.”

Mira smiled back at him, hands crossed behind her back, looking out across the Frostback Mountains, where Dorian’s own gaze had been mere moments earlier. “Same to you. Aren’t you up early. I remember someone giving me a lecture about beauty sleep?” Finally, her eyes spotted what Dorian’s gaze had been trained on. In the distance, she could make out a glimpse of purple against the early morning light.

“Well,  _someone_ is enthusiastically serenading her offspring. Lucith was restless and he becomes catty if I don’t keep him company.”

Dorian was the only other person at Skyhold with a grown dragon, and a most unusual one, too. Lucith was technically a blue dragon, considering his 30 feet size and his built. But the shade of blue on his scales was so dark that it appeared almost black at times,and seemed more purple when light hit it. A shade most unnatural even for Tevinter, he had assured her. And the Tevinter empire was the last one that still had Dragons that impressed on people. It was rare, and they were not born from eggs of Queens, as not even Tevinter still had those. They were born from the eggs of green dragons, whose infertility had been countered by magic.

When his father had reached out to Dorian, he had told her the tale of the blood magic his father had engaged in when Dorian had impressed upon his dragon as a teenage lad. Apparently, Lucith had not been what the Pavus family had expected. So his father had turned to magic to try and severe the bond between Dorian and Lucith, and force a bond between him and a bronze. More than anything, dragons were a sign of the social standing of a person, after all. It had only served to alienate Dorian from his family, and strengthened the tie between him and his uniquely purple companion.

As if on cue, Lucith roared in the distance. Mira could sense the protest in the sound, and laughed. “Oh, don’t you deny it,” Dorian huffed. “He is a diva. Honestly, if he didn’t deny it so vehemently, I’d swear that he is jealous. Though I don’t know if he is jealous of Somniath for having hatchlings, for having had a mating flight, or of whoever she had chosen.”

There is no reply this time, and Dorian makes a vague, rude gesture in his dragon’s direction. At least he can still joke about this absurd situation.

“Well, I am sorry. If it helps, she’s keeping me awake, too.”

“No, it really doesn’t,” Dorian sighs, and then clearly looks her over. “Where are we, by the way, on the issue of your queen’s chosen?”

Mira grimaces, and waves it off. She didn’t have the stomach for this conversation right now.

“Fine,” Dorian leaned forward, and into her space. She was practically forced to turn her head and look at him. He was grinning at her “Where are we on the issue of  _your_  chosen, then? Any advances made, finally?” He nods over her shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows. “I didn’t happen to catch you on your way to a wake-up tryst, did I?

Damned him. Mira could practically feel the blush on her cheeks. “Wh-what?” Oh, yes, very eloquent. Dorian’s smile grew wider. “I don’t know what you-“

“Oh, Commander!” Dorian suddenly leaned to the side, waving over her shoulder, calling out. “Mir’assan was just on her way into your bed!”

She choked on her spit, whirling around with a cough, ready to profusely apologize for waking the Commander and for Dorian’s completely senseless and baseless nonsense – when there was no-one there. She exhaled, with relief, then with anger.

“Fenedhis, Dorian! That’s not funny.”

The Tevinterani clearly begged to differ, laughing out loud, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, you should have seen your expression, dear. Priceless. This makes up for any lost sleep.”

She rubbed her face with her palms, stifling a groan. She really wanted to be angry or indignant at him, but honestly, she couldn’t. Dorian was teasing her about it, sure, but she was the one behaving like a love-sick teenager. Her own behavior made her open to such ridiculousness. She should just get it over with, either way. Tell him or forget about it. Which was vaguely what Dorian had suggested in Haven already. It had taken him a mere three days around her to notice.

Again, she found Dorian invading her personal space, when she lowered her palms. He slung one arm over her shoulder, leaning companionable against her. “I honestly thought you would have figured this out by now. He looked so thankful and vulnerable when he impressed on one of your bronze hatchlings. I swear, I thought he would cry. You should have taken advantage.”

Softly, she ribbed him. “Pyrrith was not  _my_  hatchling. If anything, Cullen was thankful to Somniath. I really didn’t have anything to with any part of that – not the flight, not the hatching. Also, don’t pretend that you weren’t moved by the scene.”

Not that Dorian wasn’t right. Cullen had looked ready to cry, and unusually disheveled. Like all of them, he had been woken up in the middle of the night when the Hatching had started, and he had been nervous, worried for the hatchlings, bellowing out commands to have everything prepared. The bronze had been the first dragon to hatch, and from the moment he had made a beeline for the Commander, Cullen had completely lost control, repeating soft sounds and words of confusion and praise at the baby dragon.

Mira remembered the women at her Clan gossiping that nothing made a man more attractive than being good with young children. This appeared to hold true for young dragons as well. It had turned her insides to mush to see him hold unto the hatchling as desperately as the baby dragon was holding unto him.

And she very clearly had not been the only one. There had been many people at Skyhold to witness it, and Mira was very sure that more than half of the people present at the ceremony had fallen for Cullen at the whole scene.  According to Josephine, the number of love letters they received daily for the Commander had tripled eversince.

Still, Dorian was not to be deterred. “I won’t pretend if you won’t. You know that he is a man with a new baby now, right? He would probably be very  _thankful_  for any help and you  _are_ one of the only two veteran caregivers for dragons around.”

Was it bad that she paused to consider this, for a moment? Then she huffed. “Exactly, he has a dragon to care for. On top of organizing our troops. The commander really has other things to worry about. And so have I.” Still, she leaned into Dorian, for just a moment longer.

And this once, Dorian doesn’t reply. He just gave her shoulder a light squeeze, and both of them remained this way for a moment longer, watching Lucith in the distance, as the sky was slowly turning from shades of red to paler purples and blues.  

Then, suddenly, there is a squawking sound, and a hum in the air. Mira lifts her head, recognizing it as the telepathic voice of a dragon. She looks to Dorian, who doesn’t appear to have noticed it yet, lost in his thoughts. She feels Somniath shift from her lullaby for the hatchlings, humming in reply, and turns her head the moment the door to the Commander’s tower is thrown open.

It was not Cullen who emerged, though, but a clumsily moving Pyrrith. The baby dragon was slightly larger than a grown Mabari, but he moved mostly like a puppy. His multifaceted eyes were alight with gold, and he headed straight towards them, chirping happily. Dorian now noticed him as well, and laughed. “Look who’s here.”

Mira couldn’t help but smile, as she detangled from Dorian and crouched down to meet the baby Dragon halfway. “Aren’t you a pretty one. Did we wake you with our chatter?” Pyrrith didn’t slow down, bumping his head into her chin, in a clumsy greeting. She feels him reach out to her again via telepathy, sending waves of happiness and content to her, and images of the sunrise and … Cullen, asleep in a bundle of blankets, drooling and disorderly, on the floor where he had created a nest for Pyrrith.

Again, this matched everything Frederick had told her about hatchlings. They had to learn how to communicate with people they had not impressed on more slowly. They were able to understand them fully, but replying was what created trouble for them. So their early stages of communication were mostly emotions and images. And very childlike, they had trouble filtering.

Apparently he had sent out the images to Dorian as well, who was laughing loudly now.

Mira reached out to carefully scratch the soft patches of hide on the throat, not yet covered with scales. “So the Commander is still asleep but you noticed the sunrise, huh? Are you hungry?”

There was eagerness, and pleading in the next hum, followed by another bump of the head against her jaw, and shoulder, and again Pyrrith seemed to broadcast to Dorian as well.

The mage stretched, and yawned. “I will fetch something for this pretty boy. I saw Varric get something for his tiny beast yesterday. You keep him company, Inquisitor, okay?”

“Sure,” Mira nodded, completely enthralled by Pyrrith and busily scratching and petting the baby dragon. A part of her regretted that she had never had this stage with Somniath. There were some downsides to bonding with a grown Queen. Though it was probably blasphemous to think like that.

Pyrrith seemed to enjoy the attention, and happily lowered himself down, so he was half across the ground and half in her lap, giving her more access to the vulnerable underside of his face, and belly. He kept sending her images of what he appeared to have experience the day earlier. Images of Skyhold in Cullens company, and of the other hatchlings, and many images of food. A part of her felt almost like she was spying on Cullen, in some way.

“Pyrrith?” Speaking of the devil. Both she and Pyrrith turned the second they heard Cullen call from within the tower. The hatchling chirped, and Mira caught herself ready to jump up and flee, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. If not for the dragon baby in her lap, she might have tried to run anyway.

Seconds later Cullen appeared in the doorway – apparently mostly undressed, save for a blanket he had wrapped himself half-heartedly in. When he spotted her, he froze, and blanched. “Wh-Inquisitor!”

Mira stared, and blinked and then hastily averted her gaze, to the skyline. Trying very hard not to think of the trail of hair that had been visible below his navel for a moment. “Commander. Good morning.” She stopped scratching Pyrrith, and instead pushed her hair out of her face. She thought of something to say, and when the silence stretched she tried for nonchalance. “You have a lovely view,” She paused when she realize how this must have sounded and hastily added, “of the sunrise. And the mountains.”

There was more silence after her words, and she carefully glanced towards the doorway – which was empty. Mira hesitated, but then she carefully pushed against Pyrrith. The baby dragon took the cue and got up again, chirping at her, displeased. She coughed. “I’ll be off then,” she half called out. She heard some rustling inside. She spoke a little louder. “Dorian will drop off some food for Pyrrith. The little fellow was hungry, apparently.” She turned on her heels moving back away from the tower. “Sorry if we disturbed you.”

“You didn’t! Disturb me, I mean.” Cullen called out, and Mira paused, briefly glancing over her shoulder again. Cullen had reemerged, in pants now, and with a vest thrown on. But the pants were riding relatively low, not laced up completely in his haste and there was still… god, had she really just stared at the area of his crotch? Fenedhis, Dorian.

She inhaled deeply. Then turned around briefly, with a forced smile. “Good to hear. Well, I gotta be on my way now, anyway. If Pyrrith is hungry, I bet Somniath will want to hunt soon.” She gestured over her shoulder, towards the other watchtower.”

Cullen nodded, pushing one hand through his hair, with a half-depreciating smile. “I see. Of course, Inquisitor. I hope Pyrrith didn’t bother you?”

Mira waved it off. “Oh, no, of course not. He could never. He is wonderful. Don’t worry about it,” she took a couple of steps backwards, but then couldn’t help it, and briefly paused. “How… are you okay? Do you have everything you need, Commander? I know that Dragons can be quite demanding. If you need anything, if I can help in any way… let me know, okay?”

Dorian’s quip echoed in her mind, and she felt awful. But she didn’t mean to use Pyrrith. She was just doing her job as the Inquisitor. She would ask everyone else who had a hatchling impress on them as well.

Still, seeing Cullen’s expression… it made her insides twist slightly. His smile was so… bright, and soft. “Thank you, Mira. I will. But I am good, for now. In fact, I haven’t been better in a long time.”

… he would be the death of her, she just knew it. “Ah, glad to hear it. Well, as I said. I gotta go. See you later, Commander.” She made a vague, waving gesture, turned on her heels, and after a moment where she seriously contemplated just throwing herself over the battlement, she practically sprinted away.

She swore she could feel Somniath judging her somewhere.


	3. On the other side of truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are a lot of questions, most delicate and uneasy. In which people are very ungrateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amuse was sick, and sick people get fic (and dragons) to get better. I tried for fluffy, but not all of it was. Title is taken from Roo Panes' "Paperweights" which is very pretty and i blame it for the melancholy note that snuck in before the fluff and comedy.  
> Takes place several weeks before "Sky Full of Song" as you will notice early into this chapter.  
> Also, virtual cookies for whoever makes sense of what Cole is saying there.

> Well can you hear it coming?
> 
> The thunder of a being?
> 
> The tales of a lifetime?
> 
> The weight of mountains climbed?
> 
> Are you not afraid of what it all may look like on the other side of truth?
> 
> No longer bullet proof?

When Mira entered the tavern, she stood in the doorframe and stared for a moment. Somehow the place seemed off and she wasn’t able to place her finger on what, exactly, it was. She stood next to the door with a frown for a moment, observing the banter and bustle before she had it figured out.

Everything was the  _same_. It felt as if the rest of the world was somehow deaf. People were busy celebrating that they were alive, others were mourning for the past, some were in hot debate. The ministrel was singing, and Bull was loudly sharing some tale with the Chargers. But nothing had changed for them in the past fourty-eight hours. Just another day in the Inquisition.

Of course, this was exactly as it should be. All her advisers had agreed in the end that it would be best to keep the matter on a ‘need to know’-basis for as long as possible. So for now, there were merely six people aware of the secret Skyhold was harboring in the old caves in the mountain below the fortress itself. The secret that was somehow weighing her down, making her feel more out of place than ever before.

_Right_. Best not to waste any time, then. Mira rubbed the back of her neck, with a sigh, and then started to make her way through the room. She waved off the serving girl who came to offer her some ale, and when Krem wandered over to ask her to join the Chargers for a round, she also declined politely. She climbed the stairs and nodded at Sutherland and the crew in passing. She indulged herself in briefly checking in with Sera, but found her room empty. She could have used some of Sera’s whimsy.

So she continued her climb, and was quite relieved to find Cole in his usual spot. Something Solas had said about Cole a few hours ago had sparked this train of thought. And since they were lacking actual experts, he might be their best bet. She hopes so, at least.

He was sitting on a barrel, legs crossed, eyes closed with a serene smile on his face. He looked up at her approach, though. “She is singing.”

Mira nodded, and sunk down on the floor next to the barrel, careful to avoid the candles scattered about. “She is,” she agreed, after a moment, as she leaned her head against the wood and closed her own eyes. From his very first appearance, Cole had seemed very enthralled by her queen. Half of the time when he was seeking Mira out, it was about her dragon. He once implied that they were similar, or the feel of them was, the “layers of them” as he put it, but he couldn’t really explain it in any terms that she understood.

She liked Cole, but she sadly often wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about. She suspected it was equally frustrating for both of them – and a source of unending amusement for Somniath, who seemed to understand more than she was willing to explain. Sometimes Mira wished Somniath to be half has forth-coming and talkative as Dorian’s Lucith.

“She guards them jealously; her songs are for them now, giving them words and feelings. And feelings she doesn’t have words for, only images. She makes sure they ripen right,” Coles voice is almost a whisper, as if he was afraid to disturb the queen’s song.

Mira didn’t really know what to say to that, but she listened within herself for Somniath’ song, too. A part of her had wondered initially, why it seemed that Cole’s bond to the dragon queen was almost as strong as hers, if not stronger even. He could hear her when no one else could. Not even Mira, sometimes. Solas speculated that Cole’s nature as a spirit and his connection to the Fade might be similar to how dragons were connected to the Fade. Since he also appeared to communicate as raptly with Dorian’s Lucith (when Lucith could be bothered) there seemed to be some truth to it and she has stopped wondering since.

And at any rate, it was obvious that Cole revered dragons. He would never harm them, and that was all Mira needed. Usually, at least. At this moment, she had something else in mind. “Cole, do you know how the impression works? Not just between me and Somniath. Also Lucith and Dorian. Or dragons in general.”

She had asked Dorian, too, but Tevinter had twisted the Rite of Impression just as much as they had tempered with the dragons themselves. There often was magic – blood magic, sometimes – involved to foster a bond. And that was not what Mira was looking for here.

Cole didn’t reply immediately. “The sound is silent and the between makes it stronger. It vibrates and glows. It tugs and you can hear it reach for each other, and it opens, but it also closes and connects.”

Mira sighed. She wished she had asked Solas to come with her for this. He was better than she was in deciphering Cole’s words. “So it is a sound that connects dragon and person?” She leaned her head against the barrel, glancing up, just in time to see Cole slide down to sit next to her.

“The air sings. It needs a reply from both sides. Feelings.”

She had heard him speak of singing air before. She mulled over his words, slowly, half sentences like pieces of a puzzle.  He was possibly confirming something that Cassandra thought she had read in her Granduncle’s notebook. Back in the day, weyrs had sometimes sent particularly dragons and their riders out to look for people suitable to becoming dragonriders. He had been unclear on what exactly the criteria where, and why some riders were better at finding suitable candidates than others, but he had implied something. “So… bonds need magic and empathy?”

Cole leaned forward and met her gaze, eyes bright and happy. “Yes.”

Mira frowned, trying to match this to what she had read in the notes Frederick had compiled for her about the old weyrs. “But there were bonds between Dragons and non-mages before. Is magic really necessary?” She knew that in Tevinter, mages were the only ones connected to dragons. But there were a lot of things in Tevinter meant only for mages.

Cole hummed, before he spoke. He had picked this up from Somniath, apparently, when he talked to her. Maybe he thought she found it soothing and just forgot that for her, his humming was just a melody, not an impression as it was with the dragons. It was a bit sweet, actually. “Yes. No. It flows, it forms, it is more real and more here. It is less separated around them. They open you, and it connects. Spirits used to help but they cannot anymore. It is only between.”

There was … a lot to unpack in there. Not for the first time, she wished she could just take notes on what Cole was saying so as not to miss anything. But there was no time for that now. Instead, she filtered out the information she thought she had heard that she needed for the moment. With her and Cole, it was like a back and forth: suggestion, question, conformation (or not), more questions. “So… they can bond with non-mages, because the dragons use the magic to create the bond?”

Cole seemed to bristle at that. She got something wrong, apparently. “They  _are_ magic. It is not separated. It is one and it sings. They  _share_ and make  _whole_.”

Mira was sure that what he was saying was somehow important, but she was tired. Too tired to figure this out any further. She had at least part of what she came here for – non-mages could impress on dragons and empathy was the key, somehow - and that was fine for the moment. “I am sorry for misunderstanding. Thank you, Cole.”

“They need to sing the same.” Then, tentatively, he lowered his voice. His gaze was all on her now. “You can find people and you will not let them die. There will be enough and you will chose well,” Cole says, leaning forward, reaching out, his fingertips barely touching her arm - and then pulling back. “But  _not_  me. Don’t ask me to. I cannot vibrate with them.”

This time, she understood, and smiled. “And I hadn’t even offered yet. Are you sure? Somniath would surely like you to be there.”

Cole looked away. “I can help them feel. Less fear, more open. I will help but I cannot be made into what they need.” And then he moves, and when she blinks, he is gone.

Mira lingered just a moment longer, to make sure that he didn’t change his mind and return. Yet another instance of Cole saying something that confused her and her not-saying something that somehow upset him. At one point she would have to ask Solas for lessons on how to communicate better with him. She really liked Cole and didn’t mean to upset him.

Then she returned to her own room and spent the next couple of hours compiling a list. It is late in the afternoon when she not only has twenty-five names on the list, but also has all of them approved by their spymaster.

This, naturally, made the spymaster the first person she approached about becoming a candidate to impress on one of the fifteen eggs of the clutch that Somniath was guarding – or technically the second, if they counted the unspoken question that Cole had declined.

* * *

 

 

And it did not go as one might expect a person to react to the offer to become a dragonrider. Then again, she had expected that Leliana might have reasons to refuse beforehand. After all, she had fought an Archdemon and they apparently had dragon form. Mira had feared there could be trauma. And there could very well be religious reasons to refuse. The chantry had denounced Somniath as an archdemon because they considered dragons traitors to the church and Andraste. 

But the reason was less complex, in the end: all advisors had agreed beforehand that they would all decline. Leliana was a spymaster and a dragon wasn’t exactly subtle; Josephine was a diplomat and many nations would not welcome a diplomat with a dragon in tow; Cullen was a Commander and he needed to be with the troops, and not in the air with a dragon. All good reasons, but three people less on her list. Not a good start.

The next person she approached was mostly a matter of convenience, since he was close by. And since Somniath was inexplicably fond of Solas. There had been  _quite_  the overwhelming sense of approval when Mira had considered him. Still, when she quietly revealed what they had found and then offered him the position of a candidate, he remained very calm. Again, a surprising lack of enthusiasm, to be honest. After a moment, all she got was a smile that seemed strangely wistful. She had half expected him to refuse, based on his expression. Then he bowed his head, slightly. “I am honored by the offer, Lethallan. I will be present.”

Honestly, when Somniath had called to her, and showed her the long forgotten hatching grounds of Skyhold, where her fifteen eggs were placed in warm, red sand, she had been moved to tears by the vision. And  _she_  really had very little part in the matter. She knew why she was so worried and stressed over this matter, honestly, but somehow no one seemed as happy as she had expected them to be when offered to become bonded to a dragon.

Varric, too, disappointed her in that sense. Because, frankly, he just snorted. “Buttercup, can you imagine the sight? A  _dwarf_ on the back of a  _dragon_?  _Flying?!_  I think my ancestors would kill me for this.” Then he sobered up, but for unexpected reasons. “Hawke will certainly kill me if I end up with a dragon and she doesn’t. She’s been trying to turn herself into a dragon for years, Inquisitor. No, really. I’m out.”

It took a considerable amount of convincing and a promise that Marian would be invited for any and all future clutches for Varric to reluctantly agree to give the ceremony a chance. He maintained that he was sure that no dragonet would consider him a suitable rider, though. And he insisted that, should this fail, no word of it would ever reach Hawke.

She continued her way down the list with less and less enthusiasm of her own: Cassandra made a disgusted noise at her, at first. “My family has been suffering from our entanglements with Dragons for centuries, Inquisitor. And now they are famously busy slaying them. I am not sure of what your choice would say to the outside.” Mira had very vehemently reminded Cassandra that this was  _not_ about public opinion. This was about the hatchlings that needed strong riders. About raising dragons. About caring for them. About making sure they survived. This sobered Cassandra up enough, and in the end, she bowed her head and accepted.

Blackwall outright refused her with as much vehemency, though. And for reasons that he explicitly did not want to share with her and didn’t budge. She had been prepared to give him a lecture, too, but something about his tone of voice made her back off. Or something about the way he threw the wooden dragon figurine into the fire he had been carving out of wood moments earlier.

Sera, who very much did not get along with Somniath at all, accepted only after she had heard that Solas would be present. Mira very much suspected it was a scam, for her, on how to make fun of another “elfy-shite”, as she put it. Nevermind that dragonriding was not exactly an elf-y thing at all. She almost regretted offering.

When she went to Josephine to complain about the others, the diplomatic advisor really was at a loss for words herself. Josie had been quite excited by the prosepcts and assured Mira that she did regret not being able to be part of the ceremony. Josephine had, however, some names to add to the list, and offered to ask them for her, to reduce her … chance for disappointment.

Vivienne, in turn, was more eager for it than Mir’assan would have liked. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Madame de Fer to take care of a dragon – the poor thing would be spoilt to no end, no doubt -  but in a way that made her worry that the Iron Lady was seeing this as an opportunity for power and not for the gift of a sacred creature that it was.

Disappointed with most of her inner circle, she asked Professor Frederic next. Surely, the leading scholar of draconology would be happy with such an offer? And truly, he was, though he cited something about the distance between object and observer at first. Her darkening expression must have warned him off, however, and he accepted.

Harding was happy about the offer, too, but refused, gently reminding Mira that a dragon was not exactly very subtle and therefore not really good for a scout to have, at the moment. She asked a couple of soldiers that Leliana had added to the list, Sutherland and his crew, as well as Loranil, Dagna, Commander Hellaine, who all accepted but also seemed warry of the offer.

She ran into Cullen on the training grounds, after she had asked Commander Hellaine. The Commander had a lot on his plate already, so usually she would have just left him to his work, but it was him who approached, asking if she was alright. No doubt he had noticed her sour expression. And she couldn’t help but point out that she was surrounded by ungrateful people and she had fully understood the reasons on a logical basis, but she was unhappy with it. And she may or may not have let it slip that she had been looking forward to seeing him with a dragon and that he had been one of her first choices. He seemed, frankly, surprised at the vehemence with which she said that. He looked all wonder and awe, and then so grateful that it made her uncomfortable. Somniath hummed disapproval in her mind, softly calling her  _completely ridiculous_. So she fled on to the tavern, where the last group was she wanted to ask. For a specific reason.

She approached Krem first, and quietly told him of her plan. Krem seemed happy at the offer, at least, but he also understood immediately what had her fidgeting and looking over his shoulder worriedly, Mythal bless him. He agreed to take the Chargers outside for a bit of sparring, where he would inform all of them of her offer. It felt rude not to offer it to them in person, but this gave her the chance to talk to Bull in private.

Naturally, she didn’t expect Bull  _not_  to notice. The man had been a spy for most of his life, until … very recently. Mira sighed, as she pulled up a chair and sat down across from where Bull was. His posture didn’t shift at all, deep in the seat, legs spread wide, seemingly relaxed. But there was the subtle hint in the tone of his voice. “That’s a deep sigh for a small person. What’s up, Boss?”

After having seen so many reactions so vastly different than what she had expected, she didn’t really know what to guard herself for. So she decided to be upfront about it. She put both of her palms on her knees, almost holding unto them. And though her Queen had been rightfully distracted for a while now, Mira could feel her presence now, clearly distressed by Mira’s own distress.  _Breath, vhenan,_  Somniath reminded her.

Mira did. She inhaled deeply, before speaking. “My queen has a clutch of eggs. There was a chance of this after her mating flight, of course, but since we never saw who caught her….” She shrugged, helplessly. “We found it two days ago – or, she showed me where it was. We suspect that the eggs are a little older than a week or so. That leaves us with potentially ten weeks, according to Frederic. I am collecting candidates for the impression now.”

Bull observed her very closely as she spoke, not moving an inch or even so much as changing his facial expression. It remained even, as if she was talking about the weather. She tried to brace herself, for the last bit. She had a speech prepared, and she would stick to it. “I understand that to the Qun, dragons are sacred. I know that the Qun has the goal of liberating all dragons of Thedas, and this is one of their primary reasons for fighting Tevinter so vehemently.” It had been something that Bull and Dorian had talked about a lot, actually. Though they often stopped their disputes about this when she was within earshot. Maybe not to offend her.

The Qun worshipped Dragons as kin, in a way. They fought them in the wild, yes, but it was ritualistic. They asked their names, and it was important to know their names. Names held meaning in the Qun. It was about the order of things. And they valued the Dragons differently. It was all very complicated and Mira could not presume to understand. But the fact remained that Bull had shown what he thought of Dragons very vocally. He was one of the few of her companions who had, so far, shown no fear of Somniath, only admiration.

“Even if you are no longer part of the Qun, I do not mean to impose, Bull.” She made a point of not blinking, just meeting his gaze firmly. “Rejecting the Qun is one thing, but I would never ask you to give up your beliefs. You are at liberty to refuse and no one will be offended or think less of you. You have never been unkind to me or Somniath, however, and I would trust you with her life – and her offspring. So I want you to know that I would be honored to have you as a candidate for one of the hatchlings.”

For a moment, there was no reaction. Then Bull leaned forward. Slowly. Her fingers twitched, and she fought not to reach out to him. “Are you offering me a chance to be partner to a dragon, Boss?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And your Queen?”

Mira blinked, a little startled. “Are you asked me if…  _she_  is offering you one of her offspring? If this is coming from her, too?”

Bull nodded.

Somniath  _laughed_ , chimes ringing in her mind. She was enjoying this a lot.

No one had asked this before. The question was a little surprising. “Of course. She knows of everyone I approached and would have made her protest known. But I doubt she would ever have turned you down. You  _worship_  her. You are very much one of her  _favourites._ ” Somniath had many good traits, but she was also very vain.

That thought, at least, stopped her Queens mirthful laughter.

It was slow to come, but then it came on full force. A smile spread across his face, and then, suddenly, a chuckle bubbled out of Bull that very quickly turned into uproarious laughter. He threw his head back, clapped his legs, and didn’t stop laughing for almost a full minute. There were tears rolling down on his cheek. Mira sat and stared.

“The irony is too good.” He shook his head, slightly, wiping the back of his hand across his face. “I’m in. Absolutely.” Then he was on his feet, and she was suddenly swept up in a hug. He said, after another moment, “Boss, you are the best.”

And finally, laughter bubbled out of Mira, too.


End file.
